8 - 12 November 2007

From the Psychotic to the Sublime

The Lake Waikaremoana Track

Day 1, Page 8

More deep track work.

Then we're back into grey grass and lichen for a bit.

Another bloody precipice. Miranda is enjoying it all. I am not.

Here's that little white flower I saw back at the first lookout.

They do like their deep tracks along here. As I said, fortunately, the clay is gritty rather than slippery which does make it easier to stay upright, even if somewhat cramped.

My legs are starting to protest a little. I can do without another pole-assisted climb over another tree root ladder. In fact my shoulders and arms are starting to ache as well. They've had to work hard today.

I make my way past yet another drop and stop for a backwards pic. Not a lot to grab hold of, and I don't think the white flowers are very deep rooted.

It's still a bit misty, but I suspect that's just distance. Straight down.

We head down again.

We stop for a short breather.

and a look at the map. Not too far now, I rfeckon. Miranda decides to move it along a little as she's beginning to get cold waiting. I am now tail-end Charlie for a bit, quite OK with my own pace and not at all cold.

Dakin and Lesleigh have reached the hut and Dakin has headed back to offer a hand if necessary. About 20 minutes, he reckons. I am happy with my pack, still, and also pleased to have company. I'm not certain what's up ahead.

God I am resenting these bloody tree roots.

Just up ahead I can see the staircase. Solid and railed. No trouble with that, as far as I can see.

Up we go.

At the top of the second flight is a strip of track about 6-700mm wide and about 2-3 m in length before I reach the third flight. There is another drop of several hundred feet. There is also a highish step to negotiate before I am onto the staircase proper. "You might not like this next bit," Dakin reckons.

I look at him and he looks at me. I shrug off my pack and hand it over. My knees are just too wobbly to cope at present. Maybe if I sat for a bit and then tried, but I would rather get to the hut.

The third flight is over a sheer drop. I focus on the steps and then make my way onto the last flight. There is a brief stretch of track again with not much between me and the drop, and I manage this all right.

My pack is somewhere up ahead. Miranda and Lesleigh come down to meet me. The kettle is on and dinner is being prepared. Would I like a glass of the Te Mata Woodthorpe red while I wait???

Short answer, yes.

This is where we've been today. Each square is a kilometre.

Inside the hut, the sleeping areas look very cramped. The aisle between the bunks and the wall is about a metre wide and there are three storeys of bunks. Fortunately there are no more than eight of us all together here tonight. I can't imagine what it would be like when it's full.

I am reminded of something I read some time back. The term, "Maori", is a later concept. Foremost in self-identification is "iwi", the tribe with which a Maori identifies most closely. This has caused problems for government officials attempting to reach out to Maori as a group. There are very few acknowledged spokespersons for Maori as a race.

Ngati Porou are an East Coast iwi. Locals. The writing translates approximately as "Ngati Porou - the iwi". I am interested in this piece of graffiti as most of what I encounter elsewhere is personal bragging, tagging rather than iwi pride. This feels somehow a lot less irritating, at least as far as I am concerned. Maybe....

Out in the dining room, dinner is in the hands of experts. (Most of Miranda's and my food I have already cooked and dried beforehand, so I feel OK leaving the final stages to Miranda.)

The Woodthorpe red is a goody.

Dakin has a go and eventually succeeds at getting the gas heater functioning, as there is already a decided nip in the air. You can feel its warmth for about 2 metres around it or a little less. The remainder of the heat disappears into the high vee of the roof and stays there, more or less out of reach. After a bit less than an hour it switches off automatically. We put on fresh thermals and fleece jackets, and spread out today's gear to dry as best as it can.

The dunnies have no paper, nor any holder to suggest paper was ever envisaged. Mind you, if there is going to be a toilet paper dispenser, there needs to be someone to make sure it is refilled as necessary, and we do not see a DoC ranger from one end of the trip to the other.

Through the window, there is a grand view over the lake. This time, there is ample room between me and the view and I can enjoy it.

From below, this is what our trip looks like:

Fishing? Wait and see....